


How to save a life

by the_autumn_soldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Dean owns a bookshop, Fluff, Heartbreak, Kinda slow burn I guess, M/M, Modern AU, Past Issues, Sexual Content, Small Town Romance, Smoking, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_autumn_soldier/pseuds/the_autumn_soldier
Summary: Dean and his brother, Sam have owned their families' little bookshop ever since their father passed away a few years ago. Dean, who has originally had bigger plans for the future, has adapted, but is still not happy with his situation. The pain of having lost both his parents still sits deep and Dean does everything he can to not fall back into the hole that threatens to swallow him at any time.Castiel has travelled very far, has probably lived the life that Dean always dreamt of. But he as well as Dean, is dealing with pain and dissapointments from the past.The two of them meet, both unknowing about each others past, but as they start to get closer to each other, the walls both of them have built around themselves finally seem to lose a little bit of strength.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey peeps!  
> This is the first fanfiction I have written in a while and I have never been quite a talented writer in the first place, but aside from that I hope you are going to enjoy this!  
> I know the summary is wacky, I am really bad at writing summaries, I am sorry!  
> Fell free to leave kudos or comments if you liked this it would really make me happy! :)

The day was slowly coming to an end. The sun had almost dissapeared behind the rooftops, that Dean could see from their kitchen window.

He was sitting on the window sill, by an open window, and smoked a cigarette, the trails of smoke slowly ascending, floating in the air for a while until they were swept away by the evening breeze. Sam had told him many times to quit smoking and Dean had promised he would, but he had always given in.

He tried to make Sam think that he was actually on the road of quitting smoking and also tried to tell himself that, but in reality he was far from it.

"Fucking nicotine", he mumbled to himself and let out a small cough. He stood up from the window sill and put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the kitchentable. There was way too much ash in there.

Dean sighed and looked away.

Sam would not return from the store, which he had gone to about half an hour ago, until in an hour, so Dean decided to take a long shower.

It wasn't like he was not able to take showers while his brother was in the flat, it was just that as soon as Dean told him he would go and take a shower, Sam had a habit of randomly walking in and out of the bathroom to "get stuff" to annoy Dean.

Sam had always loved to playfully annoy Dean whenever he could, ever since they were little. Dean actaully thought it was kind of funny, but still he enjoyed showering when he was alone.

The water was way too cold when Dean turned it on and he let out a small curse. He stood as far away from the water as he could until it had, finally after what felt like ten minutes, turned warm.

Dean closed his eyes and just allowed the water to just run over his back and head for a few minutes until he actaully started to make an effort to clean himself properly.

He got out of the shower, as the skin on his fingers started to get wrinkles. A very childish part of Dean's brain still believed that wrinkly skin was the first sign of him turning into a fish, because his mom had told him so when he was very little.

He smiled at the thought of her, for that one blessed moment whenever he thought of his mom, in which he forgot that she had died over 30 years ago, until he painfully remembered.

A car accident. Dean had been four. Sam had been six months old. A tragedy, as some would describe it.

Dean shook his head, in the hopes that that might also shake the depressing thoughts out as well, but that almost never worked.

Unsure what he should do with his time, until Sam returned from the store he aimlessly wandered through the apartment, like a zombie, until he ended up on the window sill again. A pack of cigarettes in one, and his lighter in his other hand.

He was angry at himself for that, but lighted the cigarette anyways. Whatever, he thought, we all die of something one day.

He continued to sit like this for a few minutes and looked down at the road. It was nearing 8 pm and he could see a few small groups of people in formal wear walk in the direction of the town's theatre. He didn't know what was on tonight, but it seemed to be something exiting. Shakespeare probably. Hamlet? Romeo and Juliet? The theatre never did anything extravagant.

At last, he heard a key turn in the lock of their door and he stepped out into the hallway to greet Sam.

His little brother was packed with two large grocery bag and handed Dean one before saying anything.

"Sorry" he said "these are very heavy. Hey"

Dean chuckled "It's fine" he said and coughed again.

To that Sam didn't reply anything and just proceeded to go into the kitchen, where he set down the grocery bag he was still carrying and then took off his jacket and hung it on one of the coat hooks in the hallway, that had been put there rather half- assedly.

Luckily for Dean, Sam hadn't realized the addition of two cigarette butts to the ashtray or atleast didn't comment on it.

"What took you so long?" Dean asked as he started to put the groceries into the fridge and other cupboards around the kitchen.

"There was a hell of a line at the checkout" Sam replied "on every fucking register. It's like the apocalype has started"

Dean chuckled, as he put a sickpack of beer into the lowest shelf of the refridgerator.

"Did you eat anything yet?" Sam asked, while he closed the window that Dean had left open.

"No" Dean answered simply and hoped that Sam hadn't gotten suspicious because of the open window.

His prayers weren't heard.

Still facing away from him Sam said, "Dean we need to talk about this"

Shit, Dean thought and internally cursed himself for leaving the window open.

"About what?" he asked, knowing exactly what Sam means.

"You know, what" Sam said, annoyance echoing from his words.

He turned around and gestured towards the ashtray on the kitchentable.

"This has to stop"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I don't want you to die, Dean, simple as that"

Dean scoffed, trying to seem unimpressed, but Dean knew that ultimately Sam was right.

He would die, sooner than necessary, if he kept smoking

"I'm trying, Sam" he said.

"Well, obviously" Sam said and angrily held up the ashtray "not hard enough"

With that he walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom.

Dean didn't bother going after him, it made no sense anyway.

A minute later he heard the shower turning on and the water starting to run down the drain.

He sighed and emptied the ashtray into the trashcan, before going to the living room and sitting down on the incredibly worn down sofa.

They had these fights regularly and each time Dean said he would try harder, try to get better, but that never happened.

He could understand Sam.

He was angry at himself too.


	2. Castiel

Dean didn't sleep well that night.

Sam's words kept echoing in his head and he felt bad.

Bad about his smoking habit, bad about the way how Sam had just walked out of the kitchen, bad about their constant fighting.

He turned his head to look at the digital clock on his nightstand.

3:45 am. He felt like the glowing green digits were mocking him and he pressed the button that made them dark again.

He rolled around and sighed. He had to get up at 8 the next morning so he could have breakfast and open the shop on time. Of course Sam could also do that, but he had done it yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. Dean had a habit of falling asleep late, which was why Sam often opened the shop in the morning and Dean joined him a little later.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to relax, tried to fall asleep, but thoughts just kept roaming around his head, silently screaming at him and not letting him sleep.

"Son of a bitch" Dean mumbled at the darkness of his room.

Eventually he managed to relax to a degree in which he could fall asleep, but also in his sleep the same images that had kept him awake, followed him through his dreams.

 

Waking up was brutal, but Dean was used to it.

A look on his clock told him that he had only slept for approximately three hours. It was seven in the morning.

He let out an angry groan, but also knew that it made no sense to try and get back to sleep for one more hour.

The sun had already gone up and threw a warm beam of light into Dean's room, in which Dean could spot little dust particles floating through the air.

Like a lot of people, Dean was desperately holding on to the idea, that coffee could erase any tiredness, instead of merely increasing his heartrate.

Still in his sleeping shirt, that he really needed to change,  and his boxers, he walked into the kitchen, surprised to see Sam sitting on the kitchen table and sipping his own coffee while reading a newspaper.

He looked up when Dean entered and raised his eyebrows at the sight of his brother standing in the doorframe, without any pants.

"You got up this early?" Sam asked, looking at the clock on the wall, "I thought this would be another one of those days where you come to join me downstairs at 12"

"Shut up" Dean mumbled and walked over to the coffee machine, pressing the button that said "black" on it.

Sam chuckled amusedly and kept reading his newspaper, with his legs crossed. Dean was glad to hear that chuckle. That meant they were for now back to playfully teasing each other, which Dean preferred over the silent treatment that Sam gave him when he was actually mad at him.

Dean decided to not bring up the smoking topic right now, although that might've been a good idea, considering that Sam seemed to be in a good mood, but Dean really didn't want to ruin anything right now.

He sat down on the chair across on Sam's side of the table and began sipping his coffee, which burned his tongue when he took the first sip, but Dean didn't mind.

Sam looked up from his newspaper again.

"My question was serious though" he said, making Dean look up from his coffee mug, "why are you up this early?"

Dean figured it was no good idea to tell Sam he had thought about their fight and hence hadn't been able to sleep.

"I didn't sleep well" he said, hoping that answer would satisfy Sam.

His little brother didn't seem to be convinced by that, but didn't say anything and went back to reading his newspaper once again.

 

The bookshop wasn't very full. Hell, it never was very full, but today there seemed to be especially less people than usual. Dean sat on an armchair behind the register desk and drank his third cup of coffee that day, wondering how many consecutive cups of coffee would be able tokill him. Sam was rearranging some books that didn't need rearranging, and dusting shelves that didn't need to be dusted.

"Would it kill you to sit down for one second?" Dean said loudly, so Sam could hear him over the sound of him shuffling books around "You're driving me crazy"

Sam looked up from what he was doing and actually stepped down from the ladder he had been standing on.

"I think I'm gonna go and take a walk" Sam said "the dense air in here is killing me"

"Go ahead" Dean said "I think I'll manage without you for a bit." The sarcasm was clearly audible.

"Yeah" Sam said and scoffed amusedly "I'll be back soon"

Dean just nodded to that and waved his hand towards the door, signaling that is was fine if Sam went.

Sam smiled and walked out the little bell at the top of the door jingling loudly when he opened the door and when it fell shut.

Dean looked at his watch. It was four hours before closing time and it would have probably been fine if Dean had closed the shop. No one would really notice, but he didn't. Four hours was a lot of time still.

 

About half an hour had passed since Sam had left and that probably meant that he would go on an extended walk.

Dean had closed his eyes, when suddenly the bell at the door jingled and Dean's eyes flew open, expecting Sam to stand there, ready to scold him for falling asleep on the job.

But it wasn't Sam who had entered the shop.

In front of Dean stood a dark haired man in a beige and slightly oversized trenchcoat, that had some of the bluest eyes that Dean had ever seen. He had a slightly confused expression on his face, as if he didn't quite know how and why he had entered the bookshop. Something about his entire appearance seemed special to Dean, like the man in front of him came from somewhere else than earth, but then again that made no sense.

"How can I help you?" Dean asked, stood up from his armchair, and put on his best business smile.

The man turned his head to look at Dean and suddenly he seemed more like a normal guy, which kind of calmed Dean down.

"Actually" the man in the trenchcoat said in a very deep and appealing voice "I just want to browse a little"

What a shame, Dean thought, he would have loved to hear this man talk a little bit more.

"Oh okay" Dean said "of course. Please take a look around"

Apparently one could hear the dissapointment in his voice, as the man let out a low chuckle.

Shit, Dean thought, that was a sexy ass chuckle.

He sat back down on his chair, his eyes following the man around the room as he looked at different books in the many shelves, that were tightly crammed to the wall.

"I like your shop" he suddenly said "it as character. I appreciate that. Not many bookstores have that nowadays"

Dean tried to keep cool, but this guy was just too intimidating with his mysterious appearance and deep voice.

"Yeah, well" Dean replied "it's kind of a family business. My father ran this shop before me and my brother did, and his fatherdid before him"

The man nodded. He seemed seriously interested.

"I actually do have a question" he said and came back to the desk "Do you have _Hamlet_? I saw the piece it in the theatre yesterday, a birthday present from my sister, and I was wondering if I could find it in written form somewhere"

What a coincidence, Dean thought and wondered if he had unknowingly seen him from his kitchen window yesterday.

"We do actually" Dean said "Follow me"

He walked over to a shelf that was a little more in the back of the store, of which he knew that it held the Shakespeare pieces and started looking.

"It might have character, but it's not very organized" Dean said jokingly as he was still looking for the book, making the man chuckle again, which sent, what felt like a hot lightning through Dean's blood.

"Here we go" Dean exclaimed proudly and held up a copy of _Hamlet._

The man smiled and took it from Dean's hand.

He held out the other.

"I'm Castiel" he said, still smiling that smile. It made Dean's knees a little weaker than he liked to admit.

What an odd name, Dean thought as he shook Castiel's hand, which was warm and firm.

"Dean" Dean managed to say.

"Nice to meet you, Dean" Castiel said.

 

 


	3. Cold Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any typos or grammatical mistakes made in this chapter. Although I am almost completely fluent, english is not my first language, so please be considerate if you encounter a mistake lmao thanks !

Over the course of the next days the attractive man with the blue eyes and the odd name refused to leave Dean’s head, almost felt like he had deliberately burned himself into Dean’s every synapse. He had not told Sam about him, because he didn’t want to make a fuss, not even begin to let the hope spark in him, that he might return at some point, come back to the bookstore, maybe ask for another work of Shakespeare and laugh again when Dean would make jokes about his own shop.

Of course, even though he did not want to admit it to himself, he still hoped for Castiel to come back. Every time that the little doorbell jingled over the days after Castiel had visited the bookstore, Dean’s head would shoot up like a rocket, more than eager to go to space, hoping that he would once again see the slightly dishevelled man in the trenchcoat, that had been at least one size too big.

In the first few days Dean’s hope was still fresh, he looked up more excitedly, making Sam ask him if he was expecting anyone several times. But after about a week, Dean had accepted the fact that Castiel would probably not return to the Winchesters’ small bookshop anytime soon.

Why even would he, there was plenty other and bigger bookstores around and Dean was sure that any Barnes & Nobles would have a bigger variety of Shakespeare’s work or whatever the hell it was Castiel would be looking for next.

Seems like “character”, as Castiel had so nicely phrased it, wasn’t the only thing to consider when looking for a bookstore.

Dean asked himself why he had even gotten so butthurt about Castiel not coming back, it wasn’t like they had made some sort of confidential agreement that Castiel would come back but still,…something in the way Castiel had looked into Dean’s eyes, a little deeper than necessary, when they had shaken hands, had made Dean expect him to come back sooner or later.

 

It turned out that Dean would see him again, not even two weeks after Castiel and he had met. The only thing was, that they met again under circumstances, under which Dean had not expected to run into Castiel another time.

 

It had been about one and a half weeks since Dean and Castiel had met and Dean had fallen for that low chuckle, when Dean had left Sam to take care of the shop, to go to the nearest coffee shop, to get some “fuel”, as Sam liked to call it. It was a fitting name, Dean had realized after thinking about it, but he still preferred to say “coffee” since that instilled a lot less confusion when talking to other people.

The day was nice actually, a day on which someone would seemingly have no reason to be sad about anything, but still Dean was kind of sad. To be fair, he had never been a cheerful person and often walked around with a stern expression. Though that didn’t mean he was constantly in a bad mood, he just didn’t frolic about everything, like some people did.

But on that particular day, Dean did feel something that he wasn’t used to. He felt like he had missed an opportunity, that might have changed things for him, if he would have taken it. He felt angry at himself for not doing a bolder approach at this Castiel guy. With women, he found it quite easy to make advances at most time, but with men he felt less confident, especially if they carried an aura as mysterious as Cas’.

 Dean sighed, maybe a little louder than he had intended, as an old lady, who had walked by with her very well-groomed Pomeranian on a leash, had turned her head and looked at him in confusion. Dean smiled apologetically, as she was still staring at him and kept walking the remaining few blocks to the coffee shop.

Against his expectations, the coffee shop was rather full, which made Dean wonder, because it was about three in the afternoon on a Tuesday, but he figured that coffee shops had a strange habit of always being crowded, no matter what day or time it was.

Already a little bit annoyed at the long line and aware of the fact that Sam would probably be bitching about him taking so long, Dean started waiting behind a young woman, who was tirelessly typing messages into her cell. He realized that he had left his own cell phone at the shop with Sam, in the expectation that he coffee shop would be mostly empty and that he would not have to wait in line for several minutes. That meant he had nothing to occupy himself with, other than staring into the ceiling and listening to the painfully long orders people in front of him were making.

He was just in the process of deciding which one on the many mugs on display he would get, if he had to, when suddenly he was hit by something wet and hot. At very first, he thought that someone had bumped into him, but that wasn’t the case. What actually was the case, was that someone had spilled their coffee all over Dean’s left arm.

“Shit!” he exclaimed out loud, making several heads turn and one woman with a toddler shake her head angrily. The coffee was really hot and Dean was sure that he had at least suffered a first degree burn. He was ready to bash whoever was responsible for this hot fucking liquid burning his arm, when he saw that the person, who seemed to have frozen in shock and had also not said anything yet, was wearing a beige trenchcoat. And it was at least one size too big.

Looking up, Dean’s heart started to beat like crazy and that not only because of the slight shock he had just experienced. Castiel stood in front of him, his blue eyes wide spread, looking at Dean’s arm in shock.

“I’m so sorry” he said and started rubbing at Dean’s jacket vigorously with some paper towels that he had been holding, as well as his coffee cup, that probably only contained half of its original contents, the other half spilled on Dean’s jacket and the floor. Castiel’s napkins did nothing much, but leave behind tiny white paper pieces on the fabric of Dean’s jacket.

“You’re gonna have to put cold water on that” Castiel said and looked at Dean’s arm.

“No way, man” Dean said and huffed a laugh “I’m not getting out of line right now. It’s fine, it’s not that bad”

Dean realized that Castiel had yet not shown any signs, that he recognized Dean, but then neither had Dean. Next he realized that he wasn’t even mad at him for accidentally spilling his coffee all over him, he was rather glad to see him.

“No, I’m serious” Castiel said sternly.

To be fair, Dean’s arm did actually sting like crazy and he felt like cold water would be appropriate right now.

“Fine” Dean said and left his spot in the line, to head for the men’s bathroom. To Dean’s surprise, but not exactly to his disappointment, Castiel started following him.

Upon his arrival in the men’s bathroom, Dean stopped in front of the huge mirror and took off his jacket, revealing a streak of red skin that was even peeling off at some points.

“Fuck me” Dean quietly said to his reflection in the mirror, when he saw how seemingly severe the burn was.

Unfortunately Castiel had entered the bathroom, right before Dean had said those two words, without realizing that he wasn’t only saying them to his refelction.

“I’m sorry, what?” Castiel asked and chuckled again.

Fuck, there it was again, and Dean had almost repeated the words to Castiel, meaning for them to say exactly what Castiel had thought at first, but he didn’t. He wasn’t that far yet.

“Nothing” Dean mumbled instead and wondered again, if he had just missed an opportunity.

“Now how exactly am I going to do this?” Dean asked, because there was no way he could position his arm comfortably under the water without making a complete and utter fool of himself.

“I suggest kneeling down” Castiel said in a neutral tone, but those words sparked some sort of desire in Dean, that Castiel did not seem to notice at all. He wasn’t even looking at Dean and rather staring at the wall, as if he was still embarrassed about spilling his coffee on Dean.

“Look man, don’t worry about it” Dean said and paused for a moment before he continued to speak “I’m actually surprised to see you again. What a coincidence, huh? Have you read _Hamlet_ yet?”

There, that wasn’t too forward, was it?

Something like a small smile creeped across Castiel’s face.

“You do recognize me ,don’t you?” he asked in his deep, warm voice “I didn’t think you would. I have read it actually, it was really good, in my opinion”

How could I forget you, Dean thought and was about to say it, but he stopped himself once again.

“I do remember you, yes” he said instead “not many people come in and ask for Shakespeare”

“No?” Castiel said and looked seriously surprised.

“No” Dean said “but then again, not many people come into our shop in the first place so…maybe in relation to the total of clients, a lot of people do actually buy Shakespeare”

“Oh” Castiel said, then gestured towards the sink and Dean’s red arm. “Cold water, remember?”

“Right” Dean said and kneeled down on the white tiles, so he could comfortably place his arm under the jet of water that was streaming out of the faucet.

The tiles were quite hard and Dean felt like his knees would get incredibly sore if he stayed like this for longer than 30 seconds.

“And how long am I supposed to stay in this position?” he asked and looked up to the other man who was still standing up, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Castiel looked at the watch on his wrist, that Dean hadn’t noticed before; it seemed quite expensive.

“About ten minutes” he said, a pitying undertone in his voice.

“Shit, really?” Dean asked “My brother’s gonna kill me”

He rubbed his forehead with the fingers of his right arm, which was not preoccupied with having cold water running over it.

Castiel tilted his head slightly, like he hadn’t quite understood what Dean had said.

“Why?” he asked, while examining his fingernails, like there was something seriously interesting to see.

“Not literally” Dean said “Just metaphorically, for me taking so long to get him a goddamn coffee. First the long ass line, now this” He gestured towards his left arm that was still red.

“I’m sorry about that” Castiel said, with an expression on his face that almost broke Dean’s heart. Like he was responsible for the shitty week that Dean had had or like he had just run over a kitten or something.

“Look man” Dean said and placed his free hand on Castiel’s arm, making him almost jump in surprise “it ain’t your fault. After all you helped me out and all and didn’t just walk away. I’ve had an awful couple of past days, that’s all”

Castiel seemed to be reasonably comforted by that and nodded.

“I think you can take your arm out of the water now, the burn doesn’t seem to be too severe” Castiel said quietly “Just be careful with it and put some lotion on it as soon as it’s healed a bit”

“I will” Dean said and stood up “Thanks for the help, man”

He turned off the faucet and carefully dried his arm off with a paper towel, paying attention that no paper would stick to his skin.

“I’m gonna have to apologize in a different way, than just to show you how to do first aid on that burn” Castiel said and chuckled, seemingly having regained his confidence a little bit.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Dean asked curiously, with a smirk on his lips, kind of hoping that Castiel would ask him out.

That was exactly what he did.

“How about I invite you for some coffee. Somewhere a little bit nicer than here” Castiel said and put a sheepish smile on “I know a lovely café, just a few streets away”

“That would be…” Dean started, but didn’t find the right words to express his excitement “I would love that”

He probably wasn’t able to hide his wide smile right now, it didn’t come out to play so often anyways, so it felt good.

“Well then” Castiel said and pulled a little card and a pen out of his pocket and scribbled a set of digits on it.

He handed it to Dean with a smile, that made Dean question the beauty of every beautiful thing he had ever seen, in comparison to this.

“I’ll see you soon, Dean” he said and walked out of the bathroom, leaving behind a piny smell.

The sound of Castiel saying Dean’s name echoed in Dean’s mind and he quickly realized that he really, really wanted the mysterious man in the trenchcoat to say it more often.

When Dean walked out of the bathroom, Castiel was no where to be seen, and also when he stepped out into the street, the light breeze ruffling his hair, Castiel seemed to have already disappeared around the next street corner.

The realization that he had a legitimate date, for the first time in a year or something, and then with someone like _that,_ only really hit him when he was on the short way home.

Next, he realized that he had no coffee, instead a huge burn on his left arm.

He sighed, but kept walking, holding onto the small card Castiel had given to him, the entire time.

When he re-entered the shop, he realized, upon looking at the clock that he had almost been away for forty minutes despite the coffee shop being only three blocks away. Sam, as it seemed, had become impatient and had made his own cup of coffee, with their own crappy coffee machine. Sam himself stood on a ladder and turned his head when Dean entered, almost losing his balance.

“Where’s the coffee, Dean?” Sam asked, with a look of utter disbelief on his face, that actually made Dean chuckle, which resulted in Sam being even more confused than he already was.

“Some guy, who actually came by the shop about a week ago, spilled his coffee all over my arm, which resulted in me kneeling on the bathroom floor for ten minutes to let cold water run over my burn. However this guy felt really sorry and we actually had a nice chat, while I was tending to my arm. To say it shortly, he invited me for coffee and gave me his number. But because of all that trouble I somehow forgot to get coffee, or just didn’t want to get in line again, I don’t remember” Dean said, then gestured towards Sam’s self-made coffee on the counter “but I see you’ve helped yourself”

Sam was dead silent for a few moments while Dean took off his jacket and threw it on his chair behind the counter.

“Wow” Sam said “that’s the most I’ve heard you talk in one piece since, like, months”

“Seriously, Sam?” Dean said half annoyed, half amused “That’s all you have to say to that? Look at my arm, man, sacrifices were made to get this date, okay?”

Sam scoffed, but exchanged that for a look of worry as he saw Dean’s arm.

“Damn” he exclaimed “what temperature was that coffee?”

“I know right” Dean said “I’m gonna go upstairs and run some more cold water over it”

Sam nodded, but seemed like he was only half listening, as he had started reading something that had come in the mail that morning. That probably also explained why he let Dean go upstairs without him protesting against Dean not doing any work.

Dean chuckled and walked upstairs, over the small flight of stairs that led to their apartment.

When he had arrived in their small hallway, he took out the small piece of paper, which was actually a card from a local nightclub, that Castiel had probably been carrying around for a while, because the thick paper had gotten quite wrinkly. He took his phone out of his pocket, which showed him a few notifications about having new e-mails and such, but he paid no attention to those and just went straight to his contacts and pressed the “New Contact” button.

He typed the name “Castiel” and the number, that he had hopefully correctly deciphered.

He was a little bit paranoid, that the card with the number might get lost and he would have no idea how to contact Castiel again, although he probably lived not far from them. Still, Dean wanted to make sure Castiel’s number was stored somewhere, where it could not so easily get lost.

Smiling, he walked over to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, turning it as far into the direction that said “Cold” as he could and placed his arm under it.

The sensation of the cold water was uncomfortable at first, but soon Dean liked it. He thought that from now on, he might always associate the feeling of cold water on his skin with Castiel, with the way he had looked down on Dean in that bathroom, with the way Castiel chuckled deeply and with the way the skin around his eyes crinkled up when he smiled.

Dean tried to stop these thoughts, after all, he barely knew the guy, but he had certainly done something to Dean, something he had not felt in a very long time.

Could it be that for once, just once, something was going right in his otherwise messy life?


End file.
